


A Brief Trip Round the Butcher Block

by strangeallure



Category: Star Trek: Discovery, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Crossover, Fanart, Fanfiction, Time Travel Gone Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23052802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeallure/pseuds/strangeallure
Summary: When the Red Angel suit malfunctions, Michael finds herself flung into a very different universe.Only it wasn’t Earth, couldn’t be, because here, magic was real.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10
Collections: Purimgifts 2020





	A Brief Trip Round the Butcher Block

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gostaks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gostaks/gifts).



> Since you're such a fan of crossovers, I thought I'd write one between my main fandom and _The Dresden Files_. 
> 
> Happy Purim!

When the Red Angel Suit malfunctioned, all Michael could think about was her crew. They depended on her, had given up everything to follow her into the future. She couldn’t let them down. Diverting as much energy as she could towards Discovery, she hoped it would be enough to get them out of the wormhole. They’d still be stuck in the future, but at least they wouldn’t be torn apart by forces inside the singularity.

As she plunged through a black-bright stream of space, unsure of her own fate, bracing for the worst, she noticed a familiar blue glow. _Mycelium._ Had the malfunction created a connection to the mycelial network? Or was she hallucinating?

Michael's skin tingled and her head was light, vision swimming.

She started seeing things, hearing things, _knowing_ things that couldn’t possibly be true.

She was thrown into what looked like twentieth century Earth. A large city called Chicago she vaguely remembered from history books, grimy and fast and loud, with a jagged skyline and an impressive waterfront.

Only it wasn’t Earth, couldn’t be, because here, magic was real. Michael was convinced of it, could have sworn to it, although she knew the population at large was kept in the dark.

Her mind buzzed with unlearned knowledge about courts of vampires and fairies and a council of wizards, about werewolves and monsters and a skull named Bob. And about an exceptionally tall man with an enchanted coat and magical jewelry driving around in a ridiculous, multi-colored car that could barely contain him.

Nothing about this made sense, but Michael felt the axiomatic truth of it all.

As she stumbled through an alley she somehow knew to be in midtown, a picture pierced her mind, clear and sharp. A frosted-glass office door with words painted on it:

**_HARRY DRESDEN—WIZARD_ **

_Lost items found. Paranormal investigations._

_Consulting. Advice. Reasonable Rates._

_Dresden_ , yes, that was the tall man’s name. She had to find him. He could help her.

No, no, no. This wasn’t real. None of it was. Michael stopped, took a deep breath. Her surroundings didn’t change, but the air smelled different, and something that felt like instinct although it couldn’t be told her it was exhaust fumes and garbage and the lingering smell of cheap cologne.

Either she was dreaming or going insane from being stuck inside the timestream.

There was a corner she felt compelled to turn, and soon she spotted the exact signage she had read in her mind only minutes earlier.

Michael barged through the door, still unsteady on her feet, unsettled.

The man – _Dresden_ – was sitting behind a big, wooden desk. There were candles, a fireplace, an old-fashioned typewriter and so, so many paper pamphlets. That couldn’t be right. All these things would have been outdated this late in the twentieth century. Yet it felt just right.

Dresden looked up. “I’ve been-” he paused, “I’ve been expecting someone called Michael.” His tone was gruff, tempered by the slightest bit of confusion.

“That’s me.” Her own voice echoed strangely inside the helmet.

“Good.” Even with him in a sitting position, they were almost on eye level. He pointed at her. “Stay where you are.” Michael’s body tensed. Was this a threat? “If you get any closer, my aura might fry your suit,” he said with a resigned shrug that didn’t seem menacing at all.

“I’d explain, but you only have,” he glanced up at a large, antiquated clock by the door, “about 47 seconds to get into position.” He pointed at a corner. “Just go and stand over there. I’ve marked the spot.”

Almost in spite of herself, Michael went to stand where he’d said.

“Why? What’s going on?”

She shouldn’t, but something made her trust him. She knew in her bones that, despite many faults, he was fundamentally good. A decent person trying to do the right thing, no matter the cost to himself. She could relate to that.

“The Power will pick you up in a few moments. I’m just making sure they’ll find you.”

He snapped his fingers, and it seemed to ignite a circle around her, glowing bright blue, just like mycelium. Before Michael could process what had happened, it felt like a rope pulled tight around her. Right before she was flung back into the timestream, she thought she heard Dresden say, “Good luck.”

\--

The thud of her own body rang in her ears, and the force of impact reverberated through her.

After a few moments, she managed to raise her head enough to look around. Black sand beneath her, and a few paces from where she lay, dark waters lapping at gravel. What landscape she could see was rugged and uninviting.

There were no system alerts and none of her controls were working. The suit was dead.

Michael tried to take a breath, but couldn’t. She was almost out of oxygen, she realized.

Her hands flew to her neck, yanking off the visor as long as she still could. Cold, fresh air hit her face and she gasped. It seemed breathable. She just hoped it wasn't contaminated in some way.

 _Oxygen deprivation._ That made sense. There were no wizards or fairies or vampires. Magic didn’t exist. Not in the past, not now, not ever. Not even in a parallel universe. After all, the laws of physics had still applied in the alternate universe she had almost died in.

Some things were universal. They had to be.

Yet, a deep certainty that it had all been real, that she had glimpsed a universe in which a man - a _wizard_ \- called Harry Dresden lived every day wouldn’t go away.

Michael decided to do what she always did: what was necessary. Figure things out, work until the thoughts that didn’t make sense would fade.

She got up and patted herself down. No injuries, as far as she could tell. Good.

From behind a rock formation, a small group approached, weapons in hand.

Now that was more like it.

Michael started to run.


End file.
